


Inked fingers and a smooth tongue

by andthestorystarts



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Jack's a bit of a dick but he'll get over it, Jack's a writer, and Jamie's a fan, sex is mentioned but not in detail sorry guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2014-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-05 06:26:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andthestorystarts/pseuds/andthestorystarts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack's a writer, with a little bit of an attitude. </p><p>-</p><p>'Why do you read it?' Jack countered.</p><p>'A question with a question. That's unfair.'</p><p>'Is anything?'</p><p>That had to be cheating.</p><p>Jamie took a moment to think of how to phrase his reply. </p><p>'I read fantasy to escape from reality.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Secretly hoping to be saved

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of two reasons why the next chapter of 'Starting a book from the middle' isn't up yet  
> ..the second reason is yet another fic I'm working on  
> which I will post eventually  
> ...Yeah I should stop trying to write multiple fics at once.
> 
> also Jack's a complete dick in this and I do actually know why but shhh it's a secret that you'll find out about eventually

One of the things that Jack did when he was bored and had a few hours of free time was to go people-watching.  
  
Which essentially included sitting in a public place and simply watching people.  
  
The name pretty much speaks for itself.  
  
He found it interesting, seeing how people reacted, how you could tell roughly how they were feeling, if they just had a hard day of work, or if they were going home. How they shifted when they talked to people, their body language. 

 

That were the people in everyday places, such as out on the street.  
In a bar, however, it was very different. Actions became exaggerated, more obvious. People didn't hide things as much, or if they did, they didn't tend to do a good job of it.   
  
Which made them a very interesting place for people-watching.   
  
-  
  
When he first stepped into the bar that night, he had been intending to just people-watch for an hour or two, then go home and read.   
However, about half an hour in, when he caught the eye of a cute brunette, who started heading over towards him, those plans flew out the window.   
  
When he exited, around forty-five minutes after that, he wasn't alone. The guy(who was called Jamie, he had learnt) who had approached him earlier was with him.   
  
The rest of the night was a bit of a blur, and Jack blamed the alcohol for that. Warm heat blended with hot mouths and exploring hands.   
  
-  
  
The next morning, Jack shuffled into the kitchen, clad only in red boxers with a dressing gown clumsily thrown over top.

He was squinting a little as the light hit his eyes, and his eyebrows rose a little when he saw that Jamie was there.

'Most people scarper at some point during the night. I see that you're in the minority.'

It was quiet as he made coffee for himself, and Jamie eventually spoke up.

'Last night was good, it really was-'  
The odd look that Jack gave him shut him up.

Jack picked up his mug and continued his shuffle to the other room-and Jamie followed, since he'd feel like an idiot if he didn't- speaking as he fell into a chair.  
'Look, last night was a pretty good fuck, but you're still here. Why?'

Jamie felt almost offended, and like he had to go on the offensive.  
'Well, its usually not particularly polite to ditch someone in the middle of the night,' he heard Jack mumble something like 'Do you think I give a shit about "polite"?'  
' _and_ ,' he continued, 'it seemed like we had a few things in common at the bar, thought I might give it a shot.'

Jack just blinked at him, slurping his coffee and raising an eyebrow.

Jamie gave a small eye roll and looked around the room, since it seemed like a better alternative than looking at the man's expression.

Something caught Jamie's eye, and he crossed the room to get a better look.

'Hey, you read Overland's stuff?'

J. Overland wasn't a  particularly well-known author, but Jamie was one of the people who had come across his work by chance and fell in love with it.

Jack gave the book Jamie was holding up a glance, then turned back to cross out something on the paper in front of him.

'Know him? You're looking at him.'  
And took another slurp out of his mug, seemingly disinterested in the conversation.

Jamie stared at him, not sure if he was joking.

Jack looked back at him, like he hadn't just dropped that bombshell.  
'What, you think J. Overland was my actual name?' He gave a little scoff.

_'What?'_  
Not about the name, of course. He knew that most authors used a pen name. What he was shocked about was that one of the writers that he read almost religiously was this guy sitting in front of him- with a bit of an attitude, too. He had seemed so much nicer the previous night.

Jack swiveled around in his chair to face him.  
'What, did I ruin your precious image of Overland?' He gave a little mock pout.   
'So sad.'  
  
'Do you expect me to just believe that you're him, without any proof? You could be lying through your teeth.'  
  
Jack gave him a 'that's fair,' expression, and lifted himself out of his chair, and ended up rifling through the little drawers at the bottom of his bookshelf.   
  
'Ah, here they are.' He produced a stack of papers, and passed them over to Jamie, then returned to his chair.   
  
Jamie skimmed them, and had the feeling that Jack had been telling the truth. 'Rejection letters for the stories.'   
  
'And one acceptance, and that's the one that matters.' 

Jamie let out a little hum, still not entirely believing him, though the doubt was beginning to shrink.   
  
'So are you working on anything now?' He asked, gesturing to the desk that Jack was sitting at.   
  
He got a partial squint in return, the man looking him over.   
  
'You're a fan.'   
  
The end rose in a slight question, but he sounded fairly sure of the answer.  
  
It took Jamie a second or two to reply, and he flapped the hand that wasn't holding the papers. 'Psh, no.'   
He just hoped it sounded convincing.  
  
Judging by Jack's expression, it hadn't been.  
  
'The simple fact that you asked if I read the books signals that you at the very least know the author, and have heard about him.'  
  
Jamie was about to say that knowing about an author doesn't mean you read the books when Jack continued.   
  
'And add that to your enthusiastic way of saying it and your tone when you asked if I was writing something else.' Ah, shit. 'You sounded like you were  _trying_  to sound nonchalant, like it was just a passing question out of courtesy, but layered underneath that was serious curiosity. Like, jump up and down kind of curiosity.'   
  
Not thinking about it, Jamie replied with the first thing that came to mind. 

 

'Well don't you sound like a regular Sherlock Holmes.'  
  
' "You know my method. It is founded upon the observation of trifles." '  
  
He got a blink, then a crinkled half-frown like Jamie was trying to remember something.   
  
Eventually, Jamie had to admit defeat. 'Okay, what was that from?'  
  
Jack got a quirk of a grin. 'Sherlock Holmes.'  
  
Jamie slapped a hand to his forehead and made a little groan. 'Why didn't I get that, my  _god._ ' 

  
Eventually, Jack spoke again.  
  
'One of my past-times is what I've dubbed "People-watching." The name should say all. I look at peoples behaviour and their body language and see if I can figure out what's happening with them. It's rather interesting.'  
His thumb ran down the edges of the paper in front of him.   
'Plus, it sometimes helps with a scene or two. But anyway, that's what I was doing at the bar, and that's how I'm fairly sure that you're a fan.'  
  
'I assumed that you had been looking to take someone home with you. Attractive man at a bar, looking at everyone but not looking like he's looking for anyone in particular.'   
  
Jack's eyes flicked over to him. 

 

'Well obviously the plan for the night changed into that when you started walking over.' 

  
There was a short pause, before;   
  
'You still haven't denied that you're a fan. You may have tried to avoid it, but you haven't yet properly denied. So, am I right?'   
  
'..You might be.'  
  
'Tsk tsk, round and round in circles we go.'   
  
Though both of them knew that it wasn't really circles that they were stepping in, it was proper answers, just small reluctant ones.   
  
'So why do you write fantasy like this?' Jamie asked as he held up the book. He had more or less accepted the fact that it was extremely likely that Jack was the writer he had read, since he didn't know why someone would go to all the trouble otherwise.  
  
'Why do you read it?' Jack countered.  
  
'A question with a question. That's unfair.'  
  
'Is anything?'  
  
That had to be cheating.  
  
Jamie took a moment to think of how to phrase his reply.   
  
'I read fantasy to escape from reality.'  
  
Jack's hands came together in a little clap.  
  
'Anyone who read's fantasy can give you that same answer. Now as to why I write it, well golly gosh it's the exact same for me. I don't like my reality.'   
  
It probably wasn't the right time to ask, but this would probably be the last time Jamie'd ever see the guy, and he wanted to know.

  
'You always make the main character a bit of an asshole, but he usually gets over whatever makes him said asshole, and he and the other main character fall in love at some point in the duration of the book.'  
  
Scarily quickly, Jack's eyes darkened. 'And?'  
  
'Well, it's not particularly usual for that to happen when written from a mans point of view.'   
  
'And?' His tone made Jamie think that he was definitely getting into dangerous territory, and he should probably back out of it.   
  
However, his damn curiosity got the better of him, as usual.  
  
'Is that what you want for yourself?'

  
Jack's expression shut down, going blank.  
  
'Please leave.'  
  
'But I just asked a-'  
  
'You've been doing nothing  _but_ asking questions. And now my patience for them has dwindled into nothing. Out.'  
  
Jamie impersonated a fish for a second or two while he tried to think of something to say to that.  
Jack's non-existent expression shifted into a mild glare.  
  
'Fine.' Jamies' hands came up and he realised that he was still holding he stack of papers, and half threw them down.  He turned, and started collecting the rest of his clothes and pulling them on- which proved irritating since they seemed to be strewn about three or so rooms.  
  
A few minutes later, and Jamie stuck his head back into the room where Jack was sitting.   
  
'I'm leaving, your  _highness_.'  
  
Jack barely gave him a glance and gave him a little two-fingered wave goodbye as his other hand continued tapping at a laptop that had appeared at some point.  
Jamie let out a quiet huff and left, the door shutting behind him with an almost-slam.   
  
-  
  
Well then. That was an interesting night- and morning.   
He had found out what his favourite author had looked like(he'd never posed for a photo, so the fans didn't know), subsequently found out that he was a complete and utter dickwad, and-  
Holy crap he'd been shagged by his favourite author.  
  
..Well he was still a dick.  
He caught sight of the hands of his watch, and made a little yelp when he realised that he was late for work.   
  
-  
  
It was well past noon when Jack next looked at the clock. He gave a little grumble, supposing that he had to eat at _some_ point, and hoisted himself out of his chair, his arms going up, stretching.  
As he made his way across the room in the direction of the kitchen, a flash of out-of-place brown caught his eye, and he turned towards it.  
  
It was a wallet.  
  
And it wasn't his.  
  
There was a long silence, of him just staring at the wallet like he wanted it to vanish into midair.   
Then he passed a hand across his face and let out a deep sigh.  
  
'Oh for fucks sake.'  
  
-  
  
Jamie had given him his number when they were at the bar, and Jack spent a few minutes looking at the number until he jabbed in the first digit.  
  
-  
  
 _'Yes?'_  
  
Part of Jack just wanted to slam down on the disconnect button. But then again, no matter what anybody else said, he wasn't enough of an asshole to keep a guys wallet.  
  
'You left your wallet here.'  
  
There was a pause that was filled with fairly loud background noise, but he could still hear the noise of hands slapping fabric- the 'where is it' dance that everyone does now and then.  
  
 _'Ah, shit.'_  
  
Well he sounded like he seriously hadn't known that he had left something. At least he hadn't planted it in an attempt to get back into Jack's flat.  
..... If you write for a living you have a tendency to create unusual scenarios.   
  
 _'Can I come pick it up soon after five?'_  
  
'Why the delay?'   
  
 _'Because, some people don't have the luxury of choosing their working hours.'_


	2. Coffee and people-watching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wasn't sure about whether it was safe to keep going there, not when it was where Jamie worked.  
> If he kept seeing him, he might get attached. Jamie had seemed comfortable enough to joke with him, which showed some -however slight- signs of some form of attachment already.  
> Shit.  
> And the fact that he was even thinking about the guy this much(he'd been sneaking glances at him till he had finished his coffee and left -he hadn't gotten much people-watching done,) was trouble.  
> Double shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oop, this one's shorter than the first chapter. Damn.  
> I'm working on a few fics at once, so chapters might be coming in more slowly than usual.  
> And yes, Jack's still a dick but he'll get back to the Jack we know and love at some point.
> 
> Feedback and comments are always appreciated! -3-

The first thing Jamie was met with when the door opened was Jack's  _very_  unimpressed face.   
  
He shifted his weight to his other foot, wondering if he'll be invited in or if he'd have to ask.  
  
Five or so seconds of silence more or less answered that.   
'Look can I come in and get it or what?'  
Another second, then Jack stepped backwards and turned, walking to the lounge. Jamie supposed that it counted as an invitation.   
He quietly shut the door, and followed Jack, who was picking something up from the couch and throwing it towards him.   
He caught it out of instinct, feeling the familiar texture of his wallet.  
  
'You didn't have to aim it at my head, you know.'  
  
'Who said I was aiming at all?'  
  
'You definitely aimed.'  
  
'We'll have to agree to disagree, then.'  
  
There was a few moments of silence, before,  
'You've got your misplaced property back. You can leave now.'   
  
However, Jamie hovered for a few seconds.   
Yes, this guy was an asshole and a jerk... but.   
There was the thing, there was a  _but._  
The jerkness didn't really seem like the mans proper personality, just like a close-fitting skin that he's used to wearing.   
However, he had no evidence to back up that notion.  
  
'Well, thanks, I suppose. Bye, Jack.'  
  
He was just closing the door behind him when he heard a quiet,   
'Bye.'  
  
-  
  
A few days later, Jack felt like going people-watching again.   
Though this time he went to a coffeeshop- one that he hadn't been to before but had heard was pretty damn good.  
  
He gave a little hum, looking at the board, deciding what to get. The line was short, but he was the last one so far, so he might get a little more time to think on it.  
  
He made his decision as the person in front of him left with their order, and the employee was busy with the till.  
'What would you like?'  
  
Hang on, he knew that voice.  
The employee looked up, and Jack's guess was confirmed.   
It was Jamie.  
  
-  
  
There was a few heartbeats of quiet, before Jack spoke without thinking.   
  
'Are you stalking me?'  
  
Jamie's eyebrows went up, first in an expression of surprise, second of-  
'Are you kidding?' He made a gesture around. 'I  _work_ here.'   
  
The only thing that Jack could come up with to save himself humiliation was: 'Oh.'  
Good going, good job. Totally worked. Fuck.  
  
'And anyway, I don't know why anyone would stalk you, since you're a bit of a jackass. And hell, at this point it looks like you're the one stalking me.'   
  
'Well I'm not.'  
  
'Whatever helps you sleep at night.' A small joking smile was attached to the end. 'Anyway.' He gave a backhand wave to the menu behind him. 'What do you fancy?'  
  
The first thing to pop to Jack's mind was,  _'You,'_  but he dismissed it quickly, wondering where it had come from in the first place. 'Could I get a coffee- any coffee, I don't care just as long as there's a heap of caffeine in it- and one of those pies.'   
  
'Yes, your  _highness.'_     
This time there wasn't any anger in the word, just slight amusement.   
  
-  
  
Jack wasn't sure how he felt when it turned out that both the coffee and the food from the place was bloody amazing. He wasn't sure about whether it was safe to keep going there, not when it was where Jamie worked.   
If he kept seeing him, he might get attached. Jamie had seemed comfortable enough to joke with him, which showed some -however slight- signs of  _some_  form of attachment already.   
Shit.  
And the fact that he was even thinking about the guy this much(he'd been sneaking glances at him till he had finished his coffee and left -he hadn't gotten much people-watching done,) was trouble.   
Double shit.  
His mind said-  _Just be a tosser, and he'll get pissed off and leave like he did at the start, like everyone does._  
His logic was something along the lines of: If he was an asshole, then nobody stayed, and he didn't get attached to them, and he didn't have to deal with breaking when they left, in some way or another.   
Never letting anybody in seemed to him like a better option than feeling that pain again.  
  
  
 _However,_ just seeing the guy at a coffeeshop every onceand a while could't do any harm, right?  
  
-  
‘If he’s such an asshole, then why do you want to see him again?’  
  
Jamie jerked into sitting position.  
‘What? I never said that!’  
  
‘Brother, brother, brother,’ sounding like a tsk tsk tsk, ‘I’ve known you since I was born. You can’t lie to me, and I’ve learned to read between the lines.’ Sophie gave a little wave of her fingers. ‘Plus, you’ve been whining about him for ages. The kind of whining where if I try to change topic you’ll end up dragging it back to him. You want to see him again.’

 

Jamie opened his mouth, as if to give a reply, then shut it after a moment.  
‘You really should read his books, you know.’  
  
‘Unless you’ve had a sudden bout of amnesia and forgotten, let me remind you. You have been trying to get me to read them since you first did. Same answer as all those other times. I’m not going to.’ A small pause, then, ‘Or at least not now.’  
  
‘Why not?’  
  
She gave him a slightly incredulous look. ‘You’ve spent the last few days going on about how much of a dick the author is! It doesn’t exactly give me the sudden urge to read anything of his.’  
  
‘Just because he’s a dick in person doesn’t mean his writing is bad!’  
  
Oh great, now he’s defending him.  
Well, his writing at the very least.  
  
Sophie let out a –rather melodramatic- sigh. ‘I’ll get round to reading them eventually. I always do.’ Her hands slapped down on the couch back, and she pushed herself up.  
‘But for now, I’ll pass on the offer.’  
  
‘But Sophiiiie…’ He gave a partial flailing grab towards her as she passed him, and got a light thwack on the head because of it.  
  
‘But Sophie nothing.’  
  
She paused for a second at the doorframe, and turned back to him.  
  
‘In the meantime, you better cross your fingers and hope that your coffee lives up to its reputation, not to mention a certain dickhead’s taste-buds.’ 


	3. Hesitant friendships and Spaceman Sticks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter's a bit shorter than usual, and I apologize about that- I'm busy with a couple more fics at the moment, and it seemed like a good place to end the chapter.

_Every once and a while_ , he’d thought.   
Utter bullshit, considering that less than forty-eight hours after said thought, he was back in the little store, quietly sitting in the corner, back to casting glances at Jamie.   
  
He’d told himself that he was there to people-watch, and technically, he was.  
Though less ‘people’ and more of a singular ‘person.’  
  
Not stalking. Nothing close to stalking.  
..Though he was starting to feel a bit like a creeper- which he tried to ignore.   
  
He had brought his laptop with him, and had grabbed and pulled it out at some point, switching between glancing at Jamie and plucking at the keys, partly to make it little less odd that he’d been sitting there for a few hours now, going through about four cups of coffee. Also, he _was_ actually attempting to write, he just.. wasn’t getting too much done.   
  
Jamie had seen him, pretty difficult not to when he’d been serving him. He’d been behind the counter, yet again, and Jack was beginning to wonder if he ever left it.   
  
Eventually, when most of the other customers had been and gone, with precious few left and it seeming close to closing time, there was a quiet pointed cough in front of him, and he looked up from the computer screen to find Jamie standing there, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.  
‘What are you doing?’  
Jack almost, _almost_ let slip with, _‘Well, hopefully you again,’_ but bit his tongue before he could, instead giving a shrug and saying, ‘The coffee’s good. Plus, sometimes I like a bit of noise in the background while I work.’ He made a gesture to the laptop and took a sip of coffee, despite the fact that it was long since cold.   
  
Jamie gave an _‘mmhmm’_ noise, and that, coupled with his expression, made it perfectly clear that he didn’t think he was telling the truth. Not entirely, at least.   
  
Jack gave a (slightly over-dramatic) sigh.   
‘Okay, fine. Since you obviously don’t believe me, what would you say I’m doing here?’  
  
That seemed to throw Jamie for a loop, his mouth opening with a retort, then faltering, and closing again. There was a few drawn-out seconds where neither of them said anything, looking at each other, before Jamie blew out a breath, some of the stiffness slipping from his shoulders. There were even traces of a quirk of a smile when his eyes flicked up to the ceiling then back down again and he finally said,   
‘You know what? I have no idea.’   
‘Told ya. Damn good coffee. Which you should give yourself a pat on the back about, by the way. There aren’t many places that can do one this good.’ He didn’t mention the fact that he’d tried going to a few other places since the last time he’d been in there, and they’d all been a bust, none of them surpassing the coffee that ~~Jamie~~ the coffeeshop made.   
Jamie blinked, looking almost taken aback, and didn’t reply for a moment, and sounded just a little bit quieter when he did. ‘You like the coffee?’  
Jack cleared his throat and glanced away so he couldn’t see his expression. He picked up his cup again, sounding a little affectionate when he mumbled into the rim,   
‘You’re an idiot.’   
When Jamie shifted in the corner of his vision, like he was either going to ask what he’d said or leave, Jack reached over and tugged on his apron, then pointed to the screen of his laptop, asking,  
‘Hey, what do you think of this idea?’  
  
-  
  
After that, they never really addressed the pattern that they fell into. Jack would come into the shop more often than not, and would sit himself down in the corner, where he could watch anyone and everyone. Jamie didn’t play favourites, didn’t serve him first or anything -if anything kept him waiting longer- but when the shop was winding down, he’d spend more time cleaning up Jack’s side of the place, and Jack would occasionally ask him about his opinion on something he was working on. They’d leave at roughly the same time, each having to go their separate ways, giving each other a little wave as they did so.   
It took Jamie a surprisingly long time to realize that Jack hadn’t been a complete asshole in a while.  
He didn’t mention it the next time Jack came in.  
  
-  
  
A few weeks past, and they kept up with their little meetings that they never put a label to. They’d both become looser around each other, more friendly, though they never saw each other outside the coffeeshop.   
  
‘Jack, its closing time.’   
Jack looked up, fingers hovering over the keys of the laptop. ‘But I’m on a roll! I need your insight on this part. You can’t be so heartless to abandon me in the middle of an important scene!’  
By now, Jamie knew that Jack’s inspiration same in fits and bursts, and if he got derailed in the thick of one, it’d take a long while for said inspiration to come back, if at all.  
He flicked the tea-towel he was holding towards Jack. ‘Well you can’t stay in here, we have to close.’  
‘But you’re an important part of his, you’re coming up with criticism and some ideas that I _need._ ’ His tone was like a child trying to whinge his way into getting something.  
‘Well, the-‘  
‘Shop is closing, I know, I know.’ Jack waved a hand, and gave a small -barely there- pout.  
There was a second or two of quiet, before Jack went back to the computer screen, then said, ‘You could come to my place, and we could keep running ideas past each other over this.’ Another second before he tacked on, ‘If you want.’   
The silence stretched, long enough for Jack to nervously shift in his seat, purposefully not looking at the other man, wondering if he’d overstepped.   
‘I’d like that.’   
  
-  
  
Within half an hour, they were sitting in Jack’s lounge, Jamie on the sofa (that had sneaked his wallet from him the last time he’d been there), and Jack slowly turning round on the swivel-chair across from him, the both of them throwing ideas back and forth. Some of the ideas got shot down, others inflated and grown upon, and yet others twisted a little but still undeniably the idea.   
A few times, Jack got so entangled in an idea that he had to grab his laptop, typing furiously for a few minutes before putting it to the side and diving into the conversation again.   
During one of these times, when Jack had been typing for a fairly long time, and had seemed to forgotten that Jamie was there, he absently took a pack of what looked like cigarettes out of his pocket, and paused from typing long enough to shake one out and stick it in his mouth.   
Jamie broke the silence.

‘You smoke?' His voice was coloured with surprise.  
Jack blinked, resurfacing from the world inside of his words, then grinned at him.  
'Oh, this?'   
He bit down on the end he had in his mouth, and pulled down on the other end.   
It snapped after a second or two.  
'It's candy.'  
He gave a small laugh at Jamie’s expression.  
Jamie looked at him for long enough that Jack’s smile shrank, and he raised an eyebrow. ‘What, is there something on my face?’  
The reply came slowly, with just a touch of something close to wonder. ‘That's probably the first time that I've seen you genuinely laugh.'  
Jack blinked at him for a couple of seconds, smile completely gone, then looked away and changed the subject.


	4. Trouble sleeping, Jack?

A few weeks rolled by, and they’d fallen into yet another habit, this time of going round to Jack’s more often than not and talking, mainly about ideas, sometimes other things.  
After Jamie ventured the question, Jack eventually explained why he was always mindlessly chewing on the candy sticks when he wrote.  
  
‘I was hooked on cigarettes for a few years- Hey, don’t give me that look- but kicked the habit. It seems that the trade-up was that I then got obsessed with these things.’ He gave the thin white stick a little wiggle. ‘Spaceman sticks.’ He took another one out of the packet, and offered it to Jamie, who accepted it- though directed an odd look toward it before he tried a bite. He could see why Jack ate them, but thought that he’d get sick of them fairly quickly. He told Jack so.  
  
The corner of Jack’s mouth twitched into a slight smile. ‘Yeah, I thought that too at first, but then again, these things are cheap, the taste grows on ya, and plus, I do it automatically at this point. I don’t really notice that I’m eating them. Hell, half the time when I’m stuck on a scene I go through multiple packets without noticing.’  
There wasn’t any noise for a second before he said,   
‘The people down at the shop let me by in bulk now, thank god.’  
  
Jamie blinked, then- ‘Please don’t tell me you have a candy stash.’  
  
He had to laugh when Jack gave him a slightly sheepish grin in return.  ‘Oh my _god,_ you have a candy stash. That’s so childish.’

  
‘Hey, candy’s awesome. Screw adultness, being a child sometimes is good for the soul.’   
  
They talked, about the candy and Jack’s stories, about some of the others on his shelves, quickly becoming swallowed in plot and characters and pure ideas that pulled them out of reality for a while, which was the point of the whole thing, of reading- to forget.   
They did so for hours, forgetting and creating anew, forging and reshaping some, tossing some in the bin altogether, and hanging some on the walls of the mind, to keep. But done in pencil, so modifications could be made if needed.  
  
They talked for hours, not noticing when it grew dark, and Jaime only looked at his watch when he noticed he’d yawned three times within forty seconds.   
‘Holy shit, it’s two in the morning.’  
  
Jack’s brow creased in a small frown, then crossed the room and peeked out the curtains, as if he needed more confirmation.   
‘Huh. When did that happen?’  
  
‘Obviously over the past few hours.’  
  
Jack gave him what Jamie thought was a slightly fond look, but it was wiped away quickly, replaced by something else.   
  
Jamie scrubbed at his face with a hand. ‘Well, I better go home.’ The other man seemed to balk a little at the comment.   
  
‘The taxis and busses have long since stopped, and there’s no way in _hell_ I’m allowing you to walk back. You’re tired and that serial killer cannibal dude is out there. I don’t want you getting caught by him.’ A beat passed that was a second too long before he tacked on, sounding a bit odd, like he was deliberately not saying something, ‘I’d miss your coffee, for starters.’  
  
Jamie felt like they were on the edge of skirting a topic that neither of them were particularly ready for having, so he let out a breath. ‘That doesn’t leave me with many options then, does it?’  
  
‘You could crash here. And your work’s just down the street, won’t have to go very far.’    
  
In the quiet that followed, when Jamie seemed to be on the verge of refusing, Jack hurried forward with,   
  
‘I’ve got stuff you can sleep in.’  
  
‘But-‘  
  
‘You look like you’re about to fall over, man.’  
  
If he was being honest, the one thing that Jamie wanted to do right then was crawl next to Jack and close his eyes, but he didn’t think it was appropriate to say so. He let out a quiet sigh, which carried across defeat.  
‘Okay, fine, you win.’   
  
They both pretended not to notice the small smile that flitted across Jack’s face at that. ‘I’ll go get the stuff, then.’   
  
Ten minutes, a rifle through the cupboards and a banged shin(plus a lot of cursing) later, the couch was pulled out into a makeshift bed, and Jamie was dressed in some of Jack’s oldish clothes.   
  
There was a sort of awkward shuffle, as both of them rubbed at their necks, and shifted their weight from foot to foot. Eventually, Jack lifted a hand up, giving Jamie a little gesture. ‘Well, better let you get some sleep.’  
  
As he left the room, flicking off the light, Jamie called out quietly, ‘Good night, Jack.’  
  
It was a moment or two before a soft ‘Good night,’ was returned.   
  
-  
  
Jamie woke, and he knew, as people do sometimes, that something had woken him. He rubbed at his eyes and peered into the gloom. There wasn’t much light filtering in from another room, just enough to see that someone was there, in the chair that Jack always wrote in.   
‘Jack?’ Jamie’s voice was thick, the name slurred from sleep. The shape jerked a little, then,   
  
‘Oh god, Jamie. Jesus, I hope I didn’t wake you up.’ There was a quiet noise, that sounded like a hand pushing through hair, and Jack sounded tired, so tired.   
  
‘Why’re you ‘wake?’ His eyes were becoming more adjusted, slowly -though still faster than he’d expected- and he could see Jack’s hands near his face.  
  
It took a long while for a reply, and Jamie’s eyes adjusted more. When it came, Jack’s voice sounded a little cracked, as well as muffled, and Jamie thought it was likely that he had his head in his hands.   
‘My mind won’t let me sleep.’   
  
A beat or two where neither of them said anything, before Jamie lifted an arm towards him.   
‘C’mere.’  
  
Jack’s head turned towards him, and the quiet sounded –if it was possible- confused.  
  
Jamie’s fingers crooked into what was definitely a _come here_ gesture, making a little noise to go along with it. ‘C’mon.’  
  
It took a couple of moments, but Jack did so, rising from his chair and taking the steps toward the couch.   
  
When he was within reach, Jamie’s arm lifted up again, fingers wrapping around Jack’s wrist, and dragged him down, his arms curling around him once he was on the couch, so he was unable to get up again.   
‘What-‘  
A tired murmur cut him off. ‘Sometimes just having someone near you helps. Try ta’ sleep.’    
  
A few minutes later, Jamie had already fallen back asleep, though Jack was still awake, mind still ticking over.   
  
Eventually, he shut his eyes, the peaceful sound of Jamie’s breathing wrapping around him, and he slowly   
  
drifted   
off   
to sleep.  
  
  
And it was one of the best damned sleeps he’d had in months.


	5. Waking up to wonderland

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohgod I haven't updated in a blue moon holy jesus someone needs to give me a good kick to remind me about these things  
> I was busy with life and stuff BUT when it comes to writing if anyone ever tells you that as an excuse tell them to shove off because for writing you should /make time/  
> so basically my reason for not posting is that I honest to god forgot about it for a while  
> Don't be shy to just come and poke me hard in the ribcage and tell me to please keep writing this because otherwise I will forget and this big huge gap will ensue and what I'm sorta trying to say in a big roundabout way is I'M SO SO SO SORRY  
> also my writing style has probably changed a buttload and just in general sorry guys 
> 
> also actually about the story- I have legitimately no idea if I've mentioned anywhere what hair colour Jack has in this- it's brown.

The world filtered in slowly, the sun brightening against the inside of his lids when he moved. Jamie made a little mumbling noise and lifted a hand to block out some of the glare, slowly cracking his eyes open into a squint. The fact that _that_ was very definitely not his own wall made him back up for a second and rewind. As he was doing so, something shifted, brushing against him, and that in turn launched the tiredness-drenched memory of before.

Ah.  
  
He propped himself up on his elbows –slowly, just in case Jack was still asleep(which turned out to be the case).  
Jack looked.. different. Not bad or anything, just different enough for it to be classified as unusual. The usual slight frown in between his eyebrows was gone, smoothed over, and he looked looser, less highly-strung, more.. peaceful, calm. No anger was there, nor sarcasm, and none of the tension that always seemed present around Jack.

Awake, there was always something shuttered about Jack, something that he wouldn’t allow out, that he didn’t seem to want to(or couldn’t) allow anyone access to.  
Asleep, he seemed akin to vulnerable. Not weak, not at all, that’s one thing that Jack never was- but the expression was something that he couldn’t seem to produce whilst awake.  
  
Jamie didn’t know how long he’d been scanning Jack’s features when the man’s eyes flicked open suddenly, surprising Jamie- who barked a ‘Jesus _Christ-‘_ and tipped backwards, ending up sprawled on the floorboards with half the blankets and a quiet drawn-out ‘ow.’

‘No, I’m _Jack_. Not Jesus. Though I have been told that the resemblance is startling.’ He was peering over the lip of the couch-turned-bed, blinking tiredly and giving him a bit of a look, as if he was debating asking the obvious question that was hanging between them, and decided against it, much to Jamie’s relief. He didn’t really fancy the idea of having to explain to Jack why the hell he’d been staring at him.

‘You’re a smartass a lot of the time, you know that?’ He propped himself up, yet again, and leant back on his arms.  
  
Jack gave a ‘hrmm’ before raising his eyebrows. ‘Only a lot of the time? Hm, I must be doing it less than I thought.’

 

Jamie gave a non-response by flopping back onto the floor, arms spread.  
  
‘What’re ya doing?’  
  
‘Laying on the floor, if you can’t tell. Surprisingly comfy, by the way.’  
  
‘It’s infinitely less comfortable after you’ve spent a drunken night on it, believe me.’ He shifted, dragging a hand through his hair, making it stick up in odd places, then looking towards the kitchen before back to Jamie. ‘You hungry? I know I am.’ He lifted himself up and swung his legs over the couch and headed towards the kitchen, leaving Jamie to wonder absently for a couple of seconds as to possible reasons why Jack’d been drunk on the floor, stood, then headed after Jack.  
  
-  
  
In short, Jamie hadn’t really expected Jack to cook. Hell, he’d sort of assumed till now that Jack more or less survived mainly on those candy sticks he loved, and coffee.  
Hadn’t expected him to drag a pan out of the cupboards and crack an egg or four into it and add a coupla bits of bacon to the mix. (It was a damn big pan.)  
  
Before he’d gotten started, Jack had clicked on something and music started, just loud enough to cover up some of the crackling from the bacon but quiet enough to allow conversation. He had apologized, and said that he liked to listen to music while he cooked- and it covered up any awkward silences that may have occurred.

 

_‘We conceal a home of desperate hearts_   
_The truth is falling down_   
_The illusion we’ve become_   
_A fear we can’t outrun’_

 

They chatted throughout this, returning to the previous night’s discussion about the plotholes, though Jamie kept getting distracted by Jack- he wasn’t doing anything out of the ordinary, was just making eggs. However, he was dressed in a light grey shirt with a slight v-neck, combined with back track pants that were dipping down, perilously balanced on his hipbones- which Jamie could see every time Jack went to grab something from a shelf.  
He wondered how a sliver of skin could seem so intimate when you’ve seen the person naked.  
  
-  
  
Eventually, the food was plonked onto plates and served, and then they were eating, occasionally talking through mouthfuls of food. Without thinking, Jamie brought up what had happened in the earlyish hours of the morning, then biting his tongue when he thought that it might be a sensitive topic. Jack didn’t seem to be phased by it, and waved his fork a little.

 

‘The blessing of a writers mind- you think of things. Interesting things in interesting ways. Or mundane things in interesting ways. Or just random things that come out of nowhere, or just something viewed in a different light. In any case, you’re thinking.’ He popped the food into his mouth and there was a lull in the conversation for a few seconds before he finished the mouthful, where words from the song came through quietly _‘You alone, you can see right through this glass house we call home’_  
  
Jack gave a little sigh, and continued. ‘And that, I must say, is also sometimes a wee bit of a curse too. Sometimes, my brain won’t shut up, and if it doesn’t shut up, I can’t sleep. Pretty simple, really.’ He said the whole thing rather offhandedly, as if he’d come to accept the whole thing a long time ago- and, Jamie thought to himself, he probably had.

  
-  
  
They’d cleared up the dishes after they’d finished, and Jamie learned that along with enjoying music while he cooked, Jack was the kind to hum along. He filed that away along with how his hair stuck up in the mornings when he ran a hand through it.  
  
And then they were back in the lounge, still in pajamas, still with sheets strewn across the floor(and couch), and having a discussion about writing.  
  
Or more accurately, Jack was having a rant and Jamie was listening in something near fascination.  
  
‘It’s annoying as hell! You can’t control the damn thing to begin with- you want a character to do one thing and then they pull the finger, scream FUCK YOU and run in the opposite direction cackling like a demented hyena! It’s maddening! And when you get writers block that’s just-‘ He let out a long groan and sprawled out on the couch, tugging one of the blankets over him. ‘Bloody thing gives me hell for days and then just buggers off and leaves me with ten hundred ideas springing at me from every-which-way and I don’t get a wink of sleep for the next two days even if said ideas have nothing to do with anything at all.’  
  
He jolted forward and made a throttling gesture with his hands. ‘And with a mind like this goddamned one that I bloody have you can give something a passing glance then zone out and look at it for the next five minutes and a whole damn story writes itself out of nowhere and it just’  
He made a noise in the back of his throat, and after it subsided, gave a huff.  
There were a few seconds before he made another noise and scrubbed a hand across his face. ‘And if you’re out in public, dear lord. Some things are just things, doesn’t do anything. Others are just catalysts for an idea, they remind you of something _else_ , which subsequently gives you an idea, and it’s a chain reaction. Other things are just so damned interesting that you have to give it at least two hundred words before you’ve even turned away.’  
  
At this point he was nibbling on one of his spaceman sticks, and Jamie was wondering how on hell he could eat it after eggs, which should not be mixed with sweet under any circumstances.  
  
‘And sometimes something doesn’t even change it could be something that you see every day or think about all the time or a phrase that you don’t even give a thought about but then you hear see or think about it and _BAM_ your mind is scribbling away like a madman and you need to go along and pick up the scrawls on the post-it-notes that are littered everywhere.’  
He let out a long-suffering sigh, then finally added, ‘Plus, my editor gets on my ass whenever I’m approaching a deadline, and almost always I am nowhere near finished.’  
  
He noticed the look Jamie had given him, like he was a little disappointed at his apparent laziness. He decided to counter. ‘Hey, I’m not the only one that does that, okay. Every sonofabitch who’s ever picked up a pen and ended up publishing their whatever series panics their editor when it gets near the deadline.’  
  
‘Oh yeah?’  
  
‘Yeah. We writers absolutely suck with deadlines. And decisions about little details.’  
  
-  
  
Jamie finally ended up changing and leaving the flat late in the afternoon. It was only after he’d left that Jack realized that the only a handful of people that he’d ever spent that much time straight with _without_ wanting to bash in their head were his family, and his editor. He blinked at the closed door for a moment before turning his back on it with a small shake of his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song playing is 'Glass House' by RED. I'm rather fond of it. And Jack ranting is basically just me ranting so


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the entirety of this chapter i was listening to Dirty Lovin by Cash Cash and  
> that is an odd song to write to, let me tell you.  
> sO SORRY for taking so long to update, and that it's a short chapter

_‘Jamie, it’s Emma here. You don’t know me, but I’m close to Jack, as I believe you are. I’m worried, I think he’s going to do something stupid. I can’t be there, so I hope to hell and back that you can be. Sorry to push this on you- I wish you luck.’_

 

When you receive a sort of mysterious and swaying towards vague text like that, you’re bound to get at least a little anxious.

Jamie was not an exception to this.

_‘Where is he? And who are you?’_

_‘Still in his flat, for now. And I told you, Emma.’_

_That’s not what I meant_. Jamie inwardly grumbled to himself, but his wariness over this ‘Emma’ was swamped over by the knowing possibility that Jack _was_ about to do something stupid, that she’d been telling the truth.

He couldn’t know if he was, as the dick left his phone off most of the time, but couldn’t think of any reason that she’d be lying- other than to embarrass him.

He didn’t want to risk it.

(Part of him at the back of his head was absently wondering how the hell this person managed to get his number.)

But by then, he was shucking on his coat, grabbing his keys, and leaving for Jack’s as soon as he could shove his feet into shoes.

 

Soon after, he was standing in front of Jack’s door, feeing a little foolish, starting to wonder if this was such a good idea.

It was possible his friends was screwing with him.

It might just be him blowing the whole thing out of proportion- after all, he did tend to imagine worst-case scenarios.

It might be- oh fuck it all.

‘Jack?’

He heard a thunk and some low cursing. Quiet for a while, and when he was about to call out again, the sound of shuffling.

 

‘If you’re one of those bl’dy salespers’n I’ll go down and slash yer tires.’

The words were slower than usual, which earned a small frown, and a replied ‘Not a salesperson, luckily. Jamie.’

 _‘Shit.’_ –hissed, but Jamie still caught it nonetheless.

The door opened, and there was Jack, leaning on the door with his face flushed.

‘Now’s not really the best time, Jamie.’ He wasn’t slurring(this time), but he was taking an awful long time to actually say the words.

If he was trying to hide the fact that he was almost drunk as a skunk, he was failing as much as was humanly possible.

 

When Jamie didn’t say anything for a few long seconds, an expression crossed Jack’s face and he blurted out-

‘’M not drunk’- then made a face that looked he was mentally kicking himself as hard as he could.

Now, he was more sagging than leaning against the door, and Jamie still hadn’t said anything.

‘Why’d ya come here?’

‘I got a text.’

‘Was it Emma?’

Jamie blinked, then gave a hesitant nod, and Jack tacked on a quiet ‘goddamn it Emma’ to the quiet. He sighed.

‘Well if yer here, ya might as well com’nin.’ He gave a hand movement that Jamie interpreted as a ‘come in’

 

It took about two minutes for Jack to pick up his half-full glass from where it was sitting at the desk, and to offer Jamie a cup.

Jamie accepted, since there wasn’t any way he’d get through the next while being stone cold sober, and plus, it gave his hands something to do.

He told himself he’d only have _one_ , and then cut himself off there.

 

 

 

A few drinks later, he asked, ‘So who’s Emma?’

He bit his tongue, thinking that the way he’d said it made him sound like one of those clingy girlfriends you always see on television.

 

‘Hm?’ Jack looked up from his glass, where he’d been swishing the liquid around. He blinked, and seem to mentally backtrack slowly to the question. ‘Oh, tha’s just Emma.’

When Jamie gave him a look Jack added on to the end, ‘M’ sister. Also ediiii-tooor, that too.’

A small tight ball in Jamie’s chest loosened at that, and he decided to ignore it by taking another swallow.

 

‘Any particular reason why you were drinking?’

That gave Jack a pause, and looked like he was debating something with himself, then said, ‘My genr’l relat’nship wi’ someone is just.. odd,’ he took a few seconds to choose the next words, and took more time saying them, ‘an’ I wanna be more than what we are.’

He didn’t seem to want to talk about it further, didn’t want to elborate, so Jamie didn’t pry.

 

A while passed, and early on Jamie effectively stopped Jack from drinking any more by planting himself directly in front of the liquor cabinet, sitting down, and refusing to move.

He knew that at times when Jack was talking, he was staring.

He knew this, but couldn’t really bring himself to stop.  He didn’t often see Jack like this, stumbling over words, cheeks flushed.

He also vaguely knew that Jack was reciprocating the staring, since he’d look up and Jack’s eyes would dart away quickly.

He guessed his own cheeks were similarly red by then.

 

Jamie’s mind was slightly blurry by the time that he stood, pausing as he did so just in case some more of the alcohol decided to hit him, then made a gesture at Jack.

‘C’mon, we should put the glasses away.’

 

He thought he got a mumbled ‘Slave driver,’ as a response.

 

They none-too-gently dumped them in the sink, and quiet reined for a moment or three, where they simply looked at each other.

Jamie started, ‘I should probably go-‘ but the next thing that either of them knew was that Jack had him up against the wall, hands bunched into Jamie’s jacket, and was kissing him.

 

It was brief, and Jack soon pulled back, and Jamie was having a quick internal panic, most of him going ‘WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED’ and trying to process it, blinking.

Jack licked his lips, seemingly without noticing that he did so, and that drew Jamie’s eyes back down to Jack’s mouth.

 

Jamie swallowed, and Jack tracked that simple movement, before his eyes flicked up, and caught Jamie’s.

There was a short second of breath-stuck-in-their-throats- and then they were kissing again, with an edge of desperation this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i would very much like to see what you guys guess as to whats going to happen next chapter  
> im very interested in your guesses or wants(give a shout, either what you think is gonna happen or what you want to happen- who knows, you might spark an idea for an oncoming chapter.)  
> no i dont really plan in advance so uh that's usually why there are such big gaps between updates   
> i just sort of start planning a thing and then get up to a point in planning and then start writing the thing and then run out of planning and wing it from there  
> im starting to wing this one i've only got like the next chapter then i have nO PLANNING  
> so input would be nice please and thank  
> wow i must be more tired than i thought to actually admit to that and ask for help   
> okay im really blathering thanks for putting up with me guys i love you sorry for me being such a weirdo wow this note is getting long aNYWAY 
> 
> i am so tired right now please tell me if you find any errors please and thank byeeeee love ya'll


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do you know how much i grovel at the feet of people who can actually write smut oh my fucking god  
> i mean it took me foREVER to write even the start of this and its just
> 
> im very fond of this fic because among other things it lets me rant about my writing problems through jack  
> but i also get to talk about writing in such a way that most people but other writers wont really understand at a deep level and i just love that  
> just ranting about writing in general  
> c:
> 
> also most of this chapter is written oddly because im in that kind of mood tonight
> 
> oh and i (might) be doing nano this year so you might not get updates for a while?  
> (which lets be honest, isn't that much out of the norm)

Jamie knew that if he said anything, it might break what was happening, might open his mouth and say something that could fuck it all up- but he had to, he couldn’t do it otherwise, couldn’t even when his mind was blurred by alcohol.

He felt the back of his legs hit the bed, and he blurted it out, because he knew that if he didn’t do so now, he wouldn’t get the chance to.  
‘Jackareyouokaywiththis’

Jack pulled back a little to give him a quizzical confused look that drunk people manage to pull off quite well.(Just look like a lost puppy and the other person will sure to explain.)

‘It’s just that-‘ that Jamie had significantly less alcohol in his system that Jack did, that he wasn’t sure if he was making the right decision or if one or both of them would regret it in the morning or what would happen if they did or if they didn’t and he had had enough to drink that he couldn’t properly process those thoughts alongside what was happening and he just- ‘are you doing this because,’ _you’re lonely or drunk?_ ‘-am, am I a substitute for that, that person you want to be closer to? Because I don’t think I could-‘

He cut off, Jack having folded his fingers over his shoulders and _pushed_ , resulting in Jamie’s back hitting the sheets.

‘You,’ a knee on each side of his hips ‘are not a _replacement_ ,’ Jack said it with a kind of venom, as if he loathed the very idea, and his head bowed down, to graze his teeth along the shell of Jamie’s ear- ‘for _anyone._ ’

That sentence effectively crumpled any hesitations that Jamie had in that moment.

-

 

In the morning, they would both remember what had happened, in a slightly fuzzy but at the same time clear way that alcohol tends to lend memories.   
They’d remember the slow slide of mouths and the fumbling hands, blurring with the warmth and the feeling of skin on skin.

-

 

One of the things that people who read Jack’s books noticed was that he never really wrote intimate scenes- well, at least none of the physical kind. Intimate scenes of the more mental kind? That’s a different thing altogether, we can come back to that later.

He didn’t, because he found them difficult. What kind of thing did the characters end up conveying? What words should be used to transition between point A and point B? That part sounded too cliché, and that sentence too idiotic, that part just sounded wrong, off.   
He had the most difficulty with the simple idea of touch. It was too difficult to get the right meaning, almost impossible to properly sum up a single touch which is something that could be translated into a ten page essay, if he had enough time.  
He never wrote sex scenes, because they stumped him. There was too much to fit in, far too much. There was a plethora of information that he wasn’t able to dilute down, the feelings and the touches and the thoughts, everything that happens, into the amount of space that he had.   
He couldn’t seem to write them because he found them impossible to properly put into words.

 

-  
  


He shifted, barely surfaced from sleep, still mainly muggy in the mind department, deciding that it wouldn’t hurt to sleep in for another couple of hours- whatever time it was. Another hour or two at this point couldn’t do much damage.  
He vaguely got the feeling that he was not quite remembering something important, something that felt a little like a dream. He figured that he’d remember it eventually, sooner if not later.  
  
He curled up, but in doing so, his foot brushed against skin that was very definitely not his own.

His eyes flew open, but other than that, didn’t move. Slowly, they flicked back closed again in a way that conveyed a sense of ‘ _oh god_ ’, then he twitched aside a blanket and looked over to the other half of the bed.

For a moment, he didn’t even think anything.  
Then:

 _Well,_ _shitfuck_.

 

-

 

He had debated just admitting defeat and staying in bed for hours and pretending to be asleep by the time Jamie woke up.   
  
He ended up in the kitchen, quietly washing and drying the few dishes that they’d neglected to do the previous night.  
Then to the lounge, where he sat down in his chair, and after a long while of trying to sort through his muddled thoughts(and feelings, which was a territory he rarely went into), he opened his laptop with a click and tried his very best to get absorbed into some kind of writing. Words, he needed words, things that made sense, that even if they didn’t, did.(Shakespeare, for example.)   
Words could be strung together in the most topsy-turvey way, knotted together and tangled to hell and back, and he could still, eventually, find sense in them, find reason and meaning.   
Feelings, not as much. They were not words, like thoughts are.   
They were something that worried him, because he couldn’t- he could describe the effects, how people felt. Hell, he felt them himself. But he couldn’t describe them.   
Words, there was a start and an end to them, clear and defined, set in stone.  Emotions were exactly the opposite, unable to see any clear endings or beginnings, blurring and blending into one another until you’ve just got this mess in front of you that might make a tiny bit of sense in the long run, but if looked closely at, would drive you mad.  
And finding something he couldn’t put into words, couldn’t make sense or reason of whatever it was through that, worried him.  
He wanted no part in it. 

 

He had always avoided what could be construed as a ‘meaningful relationship.’ He had found a long time ago that he didn't properly know how to act with them, that it always got messier than he anticipated or wanted, often ending in something inside either party breaking.  
He didn’t want that, didn’t want to be confused, to be hurt.  
So he cut ties almost as soon as they were knotted.   
He pushed everyone away, plastered on a dickish behaviour, strapped on a fake skin, so that people would stay for a short while, then leave on their own accord.  
If no-one stayed, no ties would be created, no knots would have to be cut. Nothing broken.

But this guy.  
This guy who sometimes brought him coffee in the mornings with a smile, who talked plot and characters with him, who stayed with him, not out of duty or a paycheck, just simply because he wanted to, who had peeled the fake personality away and revealed the real Jack, who had made him properly, genuinely laugh for the first time in a _very_ long time…

He had found the chink in the armour, somehow, and had snuck in and planted roots, in such a way that Jack hadn’t even noticed until those roots were a bush in full bloom..  
  


He hadn’t noticed letting Jamie in between the cracks- had barely noticed they were there to begin with.  
He hadn’t noticed(or ignored) getting attached, wanting his attention and his company nearly all the time.  
He hadn’t noticed(or maybe had just refused to see) how the world seemed to make a little bit more sense when Jamie was there.  
He hadn’t noticed anything, or just pushed it aside, thinking he could deal with it, thinking it was just a matter of time until Jamie got sick of him, and left, and Jack could go on with life, as before.  
  
He only now, noticed how dark his world would be without Jamie.  
  


It bloody terrified Jack.

 

He was scared that he didn’t know how to act, he didn’t even know how to properly function in one of those relationships, he was scared of the unknown, he was scared about becoming so reliant upon Jamie, leaving himself to become so wound around that man that he’ll be completely ruined if something ever happened.   
He was scared of loving, and because of that, someone once told him, of living.

 

Maybe he should fake that he didn’t remember, or blame the alcohol, or just bluntly ask if they could pretend it hadn’t happened(but maybe not that he didn’t want that for some reason)- or something, _anything_ , to stop him from being like this, from being confused and scared and not knowing what to do.

 

By this point, his forehead was resting on the desk in front of him, his arms reaching backwards, and he was sifting his fingers through the short hair on his nape, as he had a habit of doing when he was really, really stuck.

 

He was jerked out of his thoughts by something he was very definitely not ready to hear, not then, not when his mind was so catastrophic-

 

‘Jack?’


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> elephant
> 
> thats it
> 
> elephant  
> thats the whole chapterbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> half of this is just me going completely batshit insane sO yes well that explains the elephant in general
> 
> yes i did an elephant like it was a legit physical thing in the room shut up i do what i want thor
> 
> ohgod if that elephant gets fanart i will either burst a lung laughing or i will cry
> 
> it was like midnight and i was two thirds asleep when i thought of the elephant and i decided to run with the crazy blame my tired mind  
> im posting this without reading it through oh lord i am so sorry

Everyone has, at one time or another, come across the phrase, ‘there was an elephant in the room.’

Whether or not because it’s a little bit of a cliché, or simply because it just sounds odd in most styles of writing, people don’t seem to often use it anywhere outside of speech.

(This, as you’re about to find out, is not the case here.)

 

-

 

Before Jack turns round, hell, before Jamie even woke up, there was an elephant in the room, and they both knew it, even if they didn’t acknowledge the fact verbally.

Fluro green and wrapped in those blinking fairy lights people love to break out at Christmases and such, it stood in the middle of the room, filling up space, daring them to ignore it.

And ignore it they tried, sidestepping it and avoiding, avoiding to the point where the elephant was getting a tad irritated, its dare being taken seriously.    
(So it started doing the Macarena.)  
  
  
A few minutes later, wading their way through painfully awkward idle chitchat, Jamie was sitting opposite Jack and the both of them were leaning forward, elbows on knees, the awkwardness shifting away slightly as Jamie asked about what he’d been doing before he had woken up, and Jack jumped tracks gladly and switched the topic to writing, and plot- or lack of in his case right then.

  
After about half an hour of getting absorbed into that, there were a couple of minutes quiet as they both thought- Jamie about what Jack had said about the story, about the plot lines and the possible changes in its track, and Jack about.. well, a little bit of that, but also what the hell was going to happen between him and Jamie, considering what had gone down- even if it _had_ been due to alcohol.   
  
He could leave it, just go on as per normal, talking about stories about fantasy, and just sidestepping the whole thing. He could say it was a mistake brought on by alcohol. He could pretend he didn’t remember it if Jamie brought it up. He could do any of those things, or anything else he could think of.  
None of those felt right to him, and he knew that if he did any of those he wouldn’t feel okay in any way about it, and wouldn’t be able to act completely normal around Jamie.   
Then again, not doing anything, like he was, didn’t exactly get normal behaviour from him either.  
  
He sighed, pushing a hand through his hair while leaning back in his chair and twisting it around, swiveling a couple of times before planting his feet firmly on the wheely arm-parts(that he honestly didn’t know the name of) that made up the bottom of said chair. 

‘So what do you think we should do?’ When Jamie looked up at him, he made a gesture between the both of them(and the elephant paused in its attempt at breakdancing to raise its trunk and trumpet in triumph), ‘With what’s going on between us, I mean.’

Jamie looked ever so slightly wary when he answered, ‘Well what do you think, what do you want to happen?’  
Jack’s hand was in his hair again, as he seemed to do when he well, didn’t know what to do. Had to occupy his hands, fiddling, fiddling, with anything suitable he could put his hands on, pens, fabric, so forth.   
He eventually, after a while, quietly said; ‘I-I don’t know?’ The expression on Jamie’s face that followed caused him to wince and rush on. ‘It’s not that- I just- Agghh, I’m not good with things like this.’   
 ‘What, talking or relationships? Cause I know full well that you’re fine with talking.’ Jamie’s voice was coloured with anger, just under the skin of it.   
‘Definitely relationships. Or at least, figuring out if I’m in one.’  
‘ _If_ you’re in one? Jack, we’ve been more or less been trying to avoid sleeping with each other since we became even sort of friends’ he paused, then added on ‘-and right now, not doing a very good job of it.’ There was a short pause, then he went on slowly, ‘Plus, you’re probably the person who I spend most of my time with nowadays, and visa versa. If that doesn’t sound like a relationship, or at least the start of one, then I...’ He faltered and shook his head, his hands coming up to rub at his eyes.  
He suddenly looked far too tired for someone who’d just woken up about an hour beforehand.

Jack’s tongue felt thick in his throat, and he couldn’t seem to find words- which was stupid, he made his living being a writer, and he couldn’t find the thing to say to this, couldn’t put together the almost infinite possibilities to respond, to make the situation better, to resolve and fix, to not fuck up so entirely as he was about to, saying something stupid that never would have flown even in his half-drunk mishmashed planning, quietly saying, ‘I’m sorry, I just..’ and letting his head flop into his hands, face angling towards the carpet.   
It was never a move that one of his characters would have made, wouldn’tve put it in a story in a million years, wouldn’t put the very idea down, wouldn’t even let it have the grace to let it out in the air. But this wasn’t real life, wasn’t his characters that he could control and to some extend, predict. This was the world, the world that he couldn’t expect or anticipate or think through or delete actions- He’d fucked up, badly, and he couldn’t change that, and he could hear Jamie stand up and leave the room, returning a minute or so later, and Jack lifted his head out of his hands just in time to see Jamie pause in the act of opening the door.  
His voice trembled only slightly when he said, ‘If you figure something out, Jack, feel free to inform me.’  
  
And then all Jack was left with was the rapidly-fading slam of the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's one fifty am and i'm also watching reign at the same time and im sorry its a short and shitty chapter but alksdjlfhgh
> 
> elephant


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /sing-songs its been a fucklong time since i updated and im sorry about that but i genuinely forgot about all my fics and that they even existeeeeeed~~~
> 
> /singsongs louder ~~~~~~~~~~~I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I'M DOING~~~~~~~~~~~~
> 
> it feels strange returning to these guys since its been a month during holidays which is a long time and ive gotten into homestuck and have been reading so much of that and just wow these two man these two
> 
> i havent gone through to check for fuckups so if you see one god that'll be awkward and embarrassing so would you be so kind to point them out? please and thank you kissesmwahxx

‘Jamie. Jaaaaaaaaaaaaaaamie…..’ The voice filtered through his attempt at trying to get away from reality into his second favourite book(he would have gone with his favourite, except the author happened to be a certain you-know-who.)

‘Sophiiiiiie,’ he mimicked her tone and slipped it right back at her.

‘You’ve been sitting there for like two days.’

‘So? I do that all the time.’  
‘You’re reading speed is like, halved. Usually by now youdve gotten up to where Eliza was attacking the mountain elves and ranting to me about it- and that’s another thing- you’ve barely said a word since cracking that thing open. Usually I can’t get you to shut up.’

Jamie answered that by trying _extremely hard_ to avoid the comment in its entirety- mainly by focusing on the middle of the page and pretending he couldn’t hear her.

About a minute of that passed before-

 

‘JAMIE.’

‘JESUS _CHRIST_ WHAT’

Sophie looked a little put out at his yelling but hey, she started it. She chewed at the inside of her cheek, and when she eventually said something, her voice was soft, quiet.

‘Did something happen with Jack?’

When Jamie didn’t say anything, she planted her hands on her hips. ‘Okay what did that fuckass do this time.’

 

-

 

By the time that Jamie had finished talking, they were at the table, Jamie still holding his book idly in one hand, and Sophie had stacked her fists against one another and set her chin on them.

 

‘So you left?’ She asked.  
‘So I left.’ He confirmed.

Sophie thought, for long enough that Jamie was considering going back to his book, but then she scrunched up her nose and made a strange noise to which Jamie gave her a weird look.

She didn’t say anything about that, and just commented, ‘Well that was a dickish move on his part.’

Jamie shifted in his place. ‘Ehhh, well, I’m at fault too here I suppose- I got mad and didn’t really give him time to think about-‘

‘NOPE.’ Sophie slammed her hands down on the table. ‘NO FUCKING WAY HOZAY. You do not get to try to take the blame for this.’ She waved a finger in front of his face. ‘He got up before you, yes? For what seemed like quite a while before you? Then he had time to think about it. Hell, considering how your “relationship”,’ she even added the finger quotation marks for emphasis(though for what kind of emphasis, Jamie wasn’t entirely sure), ‘of sorts started, he should have definitely thought about it, at least in passing! And you said he didn’t know what he wanted, right? Again, it circles back to the fact that at some point, he should have thought about it. Any normal person would, even if its at like three in the morning and you’re half asleep. So that means, at least to me, that he’s either genuinely not thought about it, which I don’t think is possible, or he has thought about it, and he’s confused and likely doesn’t know what he wants. Either that or he’s got a couple of people on the side and he doesn’t know how to juggle everyone at once but-‘

Seeing Jamie’s almost offended expression she hastily continued with ‘but I don’t really think that’s the case here.’

 

‘So what, you’re telling me to leave him alone till he sits down and decides something?’  
‘Yeah basically.’

‘Well that’s more or less what I was planning to do but okay?’

‘We both know you Jamie. You would have wanted to go crawling back after a day.’

‘……’

‘Aw come on don’t give me that look.’

 

‘Are you really going back to reading’  
‘Are you ignoring me because of the crawling comment?’

‘Jamieeeeeeeeee.’

 

 

\----

 

 

‘You’re a stupid shit you know that.’

 

Emma, unfortunately, was in his flat, and had just finished forcing him to go over what had happened a couple of days prior.

He’dve preferred to continue with his combination of writing shitloads and scarfing down spaceman sticks to try and pointedly not think about it, coupled with actually thinking about it in like five in the morning when he was only semi-conscious and it didn’t seem as difficult.

Emma was ruining this plan and she knew it(and part of him was a little bit grateful since he knew he needed to get his head out of his ass and actually get things straight even if they were just in his head but he didn’t know how to do that by himself.)

 

His sigh was long and drawn out. ‘Yes Emma, I know I’m a fucking stupid shit. Got anything new to tell me?’

‘Well I think you do actually want a relationship with Jamie.’

‘And how on earth would you know that?’ He nicked the cup of coffee she was holding in her hands and claimed it for himself, settling back in his chair and taking a sip.

Emma responded with a look that read equal parts of _I’m your sister_ and _I’ve known you forever_ and _Are you kidding me?_

‘Take all those muddled little writer thoughts –especially the ones that drift about early in the morning- about Jamie and sift through them. Think about them. Go on.’ When she was met by a look(that Jack couldn’t pull off entirely well since he was wrapped in a blanket perched on a chair warming his hands on a cup of coffee) she frowned at him. ‘Do it.’

He sighed, but complied.

 

He got those ‘little writer thoughts’ as she put it, all the damned time, little bits of words strung together about something phrased in such a way that made him want to keep it(sometimes when mostly asleep he scrawls on his arm in marker so he won’t forget), little whimsical bits with no particular topic- Except about Jamie, occasionally, which he always tried to forget when he was awake.

But the thoughts still slipped through his mind, even when completely and utterly functional, when barely a speck of sleep had him.

Little things like how Jamie’s hair fell, about the particular colour of his eyes, about how he moved or stretched or smiled. Little things about Jamie, about the curve of his mouth when he smiled or the dip in his lower back, how soft his skin was or how bright his laugh. Wondering little thoughts, about what it would be like to hold his hand just because he felt like it, or not having to restrain the urge to lean over and kiss him whenever he wanted-

‘Goddaa _aamniiiiiiiiiiiit_.’ The word was strung out, stretched, and when Jack finally looked up, it was much like Emma’s smile.

 

‘So what the fuck am I supposed to do? Its not like I completely fucked up things with him last time he was here, not at all.’ The sarcasm was coming out now, and that just meant he was a bit stressed.

‘You’d be surprised what people will tolerate for someone they care about.’

‘So I haven’t _entirely_ fucked it up?’

‘If you leave it for much longer, you probably will have.’

 

\---

 

 

It took about four days of Jack sitting in the coffeeshop for their schedules to line up.

During that time, he had a sense of déjà vu, thinking back to when they used to talk at the shop, before everything got complicated.

 

Jack saw Jamie first, and he stood, making his way over to the part of the store where he was. When Jamie turned, he saw Jack, and almost looked like he was going to bolt. He actually turned to presumably do so, but Jack caught his elbow, and any sort of semi-rehearsed thing he’d been trying to remember flew out the metaphorical window, never to return. So he did what he does best. He bullshitted, not thinking about any of it at all before it went to his vocal chords, though this time, he did so truthfully.  
‘Waitwaitwait please don’t- I know I fucked up pretty damn good and proper last time we saw each other but I just want- I’m a fucking _idiot_ with relationships which you’ve obviously noticed by now-’ he was stumbling over his words and feeling like a moron but there was absolutely no use in stopping now, ‘but I just, I’ve never really been in a proper one not for years and definitely not one like this so I’m a little rusty with these things and they're sort of new to me and I don't know what I'm doing which must be why I continually fuck up with you and I’m sorry that I suck at this so much but _christ_ Jamie if there’s anything ever I wanted to try and get _right_ it’s this, it’s us.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oH and since im posting this on 10:38pm on my christmas day, mERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE <3


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello yes im a horrible human being for not updating for like uh fourmonthsholyshitimsorry and i have no reason other than ive been lazy and unmotivated  
> buuuuuuuuut hey last chapter of these two dorks here  
> ive enjoyed writing this for you guys and hope you're at least a little satisfied with the ending c:  
> this is basically shmoop galore

Jamie blinked- about five times in three seconds, and then there was just a stretch of quiet between the two of them, filled in with the background noises of the coffeeshop, and just when Jack was about to panickquit out of there, dive out the nearest window and ninja roll so he could get up and sprint home and never go outside again ever, a small smile started threading across Jamie’s face, which quickly turned into a full-blown one that he was trying to hide behind a hand in the way that some shy people do.

 

Eventually, after the grin had subsided a little, but was still extremely present, Jamie scrunched the heel of his hand against one of his eyes. ‘Bloody took you long enough, Jack.’

‘Is that a- is that a yes sort of thing?’ Jack’s hand was still on Jamie’s elbow, and it shifted hesitantly towards his hand.

He got an eye-roll, and a soft sigh that was slightly exasperated, but more happy than anything else, and Jamie’s hand moved to tangle his fingers with Jack’s.  
‘Of course that’s a yes sort of thing you complete idiot.’

 

 

-

 

 

It got a little easier after that. For most people, things got more complicated, but in all honesty, the both of them had essentially been a couple for a while now, minus some of the.. activities.

 

It was strange, to begin with, a little odd, and they would both sort of hesitate for a couple of moments before they did anything, simple things like holding hands or kissing(Jack was the one who tended to hesitate more, partly because he couldn’t really believe that he was allowed to do things like that, was still getting used to it), but they were both slowly slipping into familiarity with the whole thing.

 

Whenever Emma came over, she’d give Jack a smug look before dropping her eyes to his computer screen and asking how he was going with the novel- since that was literally her job, after all.

With Sophie, she’d usually have this grin on while she made crude jokes and jam her elbow into Jamie’s side and make him blush. More often than not she’d ask how his sex life was going. (The first time she had done so, Jack almost choked on his coffee, and had to crouch down to wheeze/cough/laugh in the middle of the kitchen tiles, where he’d been walking through to get to the lounge.)

 

Once, early on, Sophie had walked right up to Jack, tiptoed so she could eyeball him properly, stuck a finger in his face and whispered, ‘If you pull any of your stupid shit with Jamie and hurt him, I will personally come and rip your dick off. You understand me?’  
Jack had been strangely worried, and had nodded furiously until she backed off.

 

 

A few weeks in, Jack holed himself up in the middle of the lounge, laptop situated on his knees, with paper scattered everywhere around him.

Jamie was used to this by now, with Jack’s methods of writing.

After a solid week of it, however, he stuck his head into the lounge at about four twenty in the morning, and rubbed at his face. ‘You gonna be there for a while, huh?’  
Jack peeked up from where he was wrapped in his comforter fort, and his laptop, which was the only light in the room, lit up his features. He blinked, squinted, probably not seeing much since his eyes had been glued to the screen for god knows how long.  
‘Uh,’ he shook his head, probably getting out of whatever world he was writing and into the real one for a moment, mentally rewinding a bit so he could actually answer the question. ‘Uh, yeah- my deadline for the book is in like, a couple of weeks.’

Jamie looked at him for a few seconds, then waved a hand and turned round, heading back to the bedroom. Before Jack could turn back to the computer, he heard a fond, ‘You’re an idiot’ float down the hall before the door clicked shut.

 

So, during the next couple of weeks, Jack was basically nocturnal, doing most of his writing in the afternoon and night before he’d conk out in the early morning.

Jamie would usually come out and pull a blanket over him if he happened to wake up in the middle of the night, and found Jack nodding off in front of his laptop screen.  
A couple of times when he got up in the morning, he would still find Jack slowly plucking away at the computer, and Jamie would cart him off to bed, dumping him on the mattress, stuffing a pillow under his cheek and staying perched on the other end of the bed until he could tell from his breathing that Jack was asleep. He shoveled food into him when he could, usually when the both of their time frames crossed, figuring that otherwise Jack would probably try to consume nothing but those beloved candy sticks of his 24/7. Judging by the little cartons that surrounded Jack’s fort whenever Jamie checked on him, he was correct in that matter.

At one point he guessed that he must be getting low in his rations of them, and was actually rather surprised at how many Jack had managed to scarf down. His stash must be bigger than Jamie had expected. So, he went to go get some.

The expression on Jack’s face when he dumped them in front of him was well worth going outside into the cold.

 

 

‘Why did you leave it this close to your deadline to write the damn thing?’ Jamie asked him when he had managed to pry him away from the keyboard to get him to actually eat something that day.

Jack gave a one-shouldered shrug, pausing on loading up the fork momentarily to tap it against the plate. ‘Couldn’t really write stuff that I didn’t hate before. Well, the times that you were around, I liked the stuff I did, but other than that, not so much. Easier now that you’re here.’

Shifting in his seat slightly, Jamie felt a warmth blossom in his chest, and he looked down at his plate to hide his smile.

 

 

Finally, it rolled around to the day where Emma was coming round to pick up the draft.  
Jamie didn’t even try to persuade Jack to get up and dressed or anything even eat, considering Emma was meant to get there around noon, and Jack was still typing as if his life depended on it.

‘You gonna finish in time?’

As a reply, Jack gave an absent-minded hum. ‘Just tweaking some things.’

‘You’ve been tweaking things for like two days now.’

‘You cannot overtweak it is impossible.’

‘If you say so.’

 

 

Emma showed up at noon precisely…….. and Jack was still tapping away.

She took one look at him, said, ‘Jack,’ which earned her an upraised finger that signaled her to wait, and she sighed and went over to sit on the couch.

 

Twenty seven minutes later, Jack extracted a usb from the laptop, and tossed it towards his sister slash editor.

She snagged it out of the air easily, and stood up, brushing herself off as she did so.

‘Edited it?’ She asked.

‘Most of it, yeah. Give it a skim through and come over in a couple of days and we can go over anything you want to change.’

‘See you then, Jack.’

‘See ya, Emma.’

 

She flounced out, and Jamie blinked at the suddenness of it.

‘Well that was quick.’

Jack stood, stretched, popping his back as he did so, and shook his wrists out. ‘Yeah well, most editors aren’t, but since she’s my sister and all, we do things a little differently. The company has let us so far, and it works out well all round.’

 

Jamie gets some food in him, then drags Jack to bed because he’s got goddamn bags under his eyes that are big enough that the both of you could probably fit all your groceries in them.

 

Its Jamie’s plan to leave him there to catch up on some well-needed sleep, but he drags him down along with him, keeping an arm around his waist so that he’s able to sit up, but not actually leave.

‘Jack,’ he starts to say, intending to tell him that he’s gonna clean up the lounge to make it less like a hibernation cave, but Jack just tightens his arm around Jamie’s waist, mumbling something unintelligible and pressing his face into his side.

Jamie sighs, before settling against the headboard a little more comfortably so he can stay there for a while, and drags his laptop over to him, from where it had been sitting on the other side of the bed.

Checking his emails, he finds that Emma had mailed him Jack’s writing, telling him to read it.

It feels a little like he’s invading Jack’s privacy, not asking him beforehand, but hey, Emma told him to read it, and she’s his editor, and the things gonna be published, with at least most parts the same.  
Plus he has time to kill, since he’s trapped in the bed.

 

So, he reads.

 

He reads, while Jack is utterly dead to the world against his hip. He shuffles around from time to time, at one point curling a little closer to Jamie. He seems to settle down a little when Jamie’s hand threads through his hair though.  
He reads, and gets absorbed back into the fantasy world he’s cherished for so long, with the person whom he loves next to him(who _created_ that world he’s traversed so many times over), and loses track of time.

 

 

Hours later, Jack eventually cracks open an eye and yawns, stretching his arms above his head, bending them when his knuckles hit the bedpost. He moves so he can put his head on Jamie’s thigh, and squints up at the bright screen of the laptop.

It takes a couple of seconds for his eyes to adjust, but when he manages to see whats on the screen, he lets out a little huff of a laugh, and mumbles, ‘You’re reading my thing.’  
‘Yeah, Emma mailed it to me, said I could read it.’

‘Sounds like something she’d do, mm.’

After another hour of Jack dozing on Jamie’s leg, and that leg subsequently going dead due to lack of blood flow(which Jamie doesn’t really notice cause he’s so wrapped up in the book at this point,) Jamie gets near the end.

He jostles Jack a little, causing a sleepy little ‘Hmm?’ and Jack to angle his face up to look at Jamie- well, he would be, if his eyes were open.

‘So, the characters fall in love again, I see.’  
A little huff of a laugh. ‘As you pointed out in our first little chat, don’t they always?’  
Jamie let out a little hum. ‘Feels different this time.’  
Jack’s eyes flickered half-open, looking up at him. ‘I wonder why.’  
He got a soft little smile, and Jack reached up, hooked a hand around Jamie’s neck, and pulled him down for a kiss.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I WENT BACK TO LOOK AT WHAT I HAD SAID ABOUT THE CHARACTERS IN THE BOOK RIGHT AT THE START- IN THE FIRST CHAPTER AND MY HEART HURT SO I HAD TO REFERENCE BACK TO THAT AT THE END HERE AND JUST LAKSJDFHS  
> MY BABIES IM LEAVING MY POOR BABIES OH GOD IM GETTING ATTACHED AGAIN AS I FINISH IT FUCK WHY  
> okay yeah so hope you liked it~~ uwu


End file.
